


Dappled

by moodiful819



Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Lazy Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodiful819/pseuds/moodiful819
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura tries to connect the dots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dappled

**Author's Note:**

> Just an experimental little thing. If I give anyone morning-feels, I will have done my job.

He is still asleep when she reaches her hand down to trace the area around his navel.

It is still early, a misty grey blanketing the village outside their window. Both of them are naked beneath the sheets, him half-spread out on the bed while she is curled at his side, her head pillowed on his leg. She is bored, and—having woken up a few minutes earlier than her partner has—sets about her favorite pastime as she waits for Kakashi greet the day with her.

With one sea-foam-painted hand, she finds what she is looking for.

Shifting until she is laying across him, she lays her cheek on the hand sandwiched between her face and the hard planes of his stomach, and lightly fingers the spot just above his belly button.

The spot is dark, no bigger than a pen mark—one of five small moles clustered around his navel. She’d found them on a morning such as this, and lightly dances a finger over each dot. The one above his navel is actually off-centered, lying slightly more to the left, a satellite knocked out of orbit. To the right lie two marks the same rich brown as the lost dot, of the same size and shape as the other. These, she has named “The Twins,” and she smiles as her finger lingers over them, one stacked on top of the other like close friends or neighbors. A little lower resides the largest spot (though not by much), a dot as dark as an ink stain stacked directly beneath the twins, a friend across the lane, while the fifth—a spot the color of chocolate—dwells beneath the sheets, hidden by cotton covering her lover.

She bides her time as he sleeps, finger tracing lightly over the taut skin as her head rises and falls with the tide of his breath. It is not the first time she has woken up before him, and she spends it like she always has, drawing patterns in his skin while she marvels at his body, at the scars that split his skin and the strength hidden beneath her spot of rest. The fact that he’s beautiful is no contest in Konoha, even as white knots ripple and tear at the smooth expanse of his body—but it is his birthmarks that she adores the most. In the back of her mind, she thinks of a dappled grey horse walking through a forest, the one she’d always wanted as a child.

This morning, she makes her fingers leap across his stomach, trying to connect the dots into some meaningful shape, into some grand design… and that is how he finds her when he awakes: frowning, brows drawn, with a cheek puffed out in irritation as her fingers hover suspended over his stomach.

"They’re not making any sense!" she complains, the air trapped by her cheek escaping in a huff. 

Leaning further, the older man follows the line of her finger to the birthmarks on his skin and stares hard at her makeshift game of connect-the-dots before looking back at her.

"Well…do they have to?" he replies, and watches as her brows tilt and her eyes widen, as if a great cosmic riddle has become clear to her.

A smile splits across her face. “No,” she says as she fits her petite frame against his tall, gangly one, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, “Not at all.”

Returning the gesture, nodding against the crown of her head, he slowly lays himself back in bed with Sakura curling against him once more. Both are content to greet the day like this, while through the window, the sunlight slowly stretches toward them past the tree outside their building, a late-riser to their party.

Pulling her closer to him, they watch as she traces patterns in his skin, her finger leaping from birthmark to birthmark through the lights and shadows covering his skin, her touch delightfully warm in the early-morning cold.


End file.
